Never Forgotten
by SlightlyFrumiousBandersnatch
Summary: "There are some marks that never fade, some things that you never, never forget."  Because Morgana has been many things to Merlin, and his enemy is only the most recent.  Onesided Merlin/Morgana, spoilers through 4x6, darkness, character death.


**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or settings of the BBC's Merlin. I'm not trying to profit from them, I just enjoy using them to make myself sad.**

**This is day 6 of my New Year's Project to post one oneshot/poem a day during the month of January (see my profile for details on fandoms if curious).**

**This has been lingering in my head for a long time, wanting to be written. I'm fascinated by the dynamic between these two; what they could have been (/should have been) contrasts so sharply with what they are.**

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><p>The first time love knocks you totally sideways, it leaves a mark. It's not like—just because the fall was hard and fast and sudden—you can never get back out. Creamy skin and dark hair and that lilting, smooth, teasing <em>voice<em> may drag Merlin's heart right out of his chest, but that rebellious organ does eventually return. He even mostly forgets about the peculiar way his chest felt when she came down the stairs to the banquet that night. He could call himself completely recovered, and say that the Lady Morgana is his friend and nothing more, and he wouldn't be a liar.

But, still, there's a giddy, agonizing, ecstatic time when he belongs to her, heart and soul. He worships her because she is beautiful and extraordinary and he's never met anyone quite like her before. That's the sort of thing that can be outgrown, but never forgotten.

Sometimes, just for a moment, you feel a connection to someone which shocks you by its depth –that's not to say that such a connection must be permanent or even mutual. When Morgana looks at Merlin and tells him that maybe magic is something that chooses you, he feels for a dizzying moment that they are the same, that she's putting words around everything in his heart and meaning it as truly as he does. That doesn't mean that he goes on feeling that. Later, she chooses a path which sets her against everything that he is, and he defines their relationship by their differences. He calls her the darkness to his light and the enemy of the prince he loves more than life, and he's speaking the truth.

But, still, in that moment, he knows that they are the same, and his heart is so nakedly in his eyes that she feels it, too, without knowing why. She asks him what he means by staring, and he shakes himself and pretends that he wasn't, but they both know. A connection like that can be renounced, but never erased.

When you fail someone, really fail them when it's important and they need you, you never really get over it. Your excuse may have been excellent, they may never even find out, but the bitterness always wells up like bile in your soul at the memory. She comes to him, almost in tears, frightened of the whole world and, most of all, of herself. He has the power to shatter her loneliness, but he holds back because he's afraid of what she will become. Later, when she turns out to be everything the dragon threatened and more, he has cause to be glad that he never trusted her. He could say that the dragon was right to warn him, and that would not be entirely false.

But, still, for the rest of his life he sees her face on dark nights. He remembers the pain in her eyes and wonders what might have happened if he'd defied fate. Shame like that leaves a stain that nothing on earth can wash away.

If at any time you truly trust, truly care for a person, and then watch them turn into someone else, you never really forget who they used to be. Even if it hurts you, infuriates you, there are always moments when the person that they once were is forced before your eyes. When Merlin hangs at Morgana's mercy, bound and helpless and hating her, he is suddenly, loathsomely reminded of the woman she was, long ago, before it all went wrong. The Morgana he knew couldn't abide cruelty; her honor and courage would never, never have permitted the humiliation of a helpless enemy. Yes, he spits at her – because she's an enemy of Camelot; because she wants to make a traitor of him; because she uses sorcery in a way that almost proves Uther Pendragon right. He could give a thousand reasons to despise her simply for her actions, for what she has done and is doing and will try to do again, and they would all be true.

But, still, it's the memory of the Morgana that was that makes him vicious. The witch is smirking at him through the face of a woman whom he used to trust, used to respect, used to call "friend", and that _hurts_. Badly though he wants to forget, he can't. Memories like that can be buried, but they can never die.

When the time comes, he stands over her, looks down into green eyes for an eternal instant, and casts the spell that stops her heart. After it's done, he cries like a child. It's true that her death is necessary for Camelot's safety, that it will mean security and peace for the people, even that it is just...

But, still, though that knowledge can make him end her life, it cannot make him glad that she's dead. The knights are cheerful, boisterous in their victory, and they gather around to slap him on the back, but Arthur takes one look at his court sorcerer's face and sends them all away with a few harsh words.

"Even after all these years?" he asks, and Merlin nods numbly. Arthur smiles bitterly and looks older than even his long reign and the traces of grey in his beard should explain.

"Me, too. I mean…I had always hoped that she wouldn't be…that I wouldn't…_care_ about her anymore." He swallows, "But, she's—she's still my sister."

The body is brought home to lie in state at Camelot, and Gwen dresses her former mistress in a princess's gown, untangling and carefully braiding the hair which time and bitterness have streaked with silver. The people cheer in the streets, rejoicing at the lifting of the final shadow on Albion, but the three of them sit beside her all day and into the night, sometimes reminiscing, more often silent. They are aware that, since Gaius' death, there is no one else in Camelot who mourns this woman, no one who remembers the Morgana that quarreled with Arthur and told secrets with Gwen and conspired with Merlin. To everyone else, her death is a cause for celebration. Finally, as the moon rises outside, the king and queen retire to take comfort in each other's arms. Merlin sits beside the bier until dawn, lost in memory. He worshipped her, he cared for her, he betrayed her, he lost her, and, in the end, he killed her. He has been her destiny, and he has been her doom.

It's true that he can forgive her. With time, he may even forgive himself.

But, still, there are some marks that never fade, some things that you never, never forget.

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><p><strong>Darkness and angst. Poor Merlin.<strong>

**If you enjoyed, let me know. If you didn't, let me know why. :) It means the world to get feedback, even if it's more about things that I can improve than about things you liked. If it depressed you hugely, then know that tomorrow's offering will be Doctor Who and rather more cheerful.**


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